When The Jacket Fits
by freyinthelake
Summary: AU / Freya has returned from the Lake of Avalon and is living in Camelot with Merlin. However, on a more or less normal day, Freya realizes that much more has changed than she previously thought. The old Merlin is gone, with a rather different one in his place.


Freya sat on the window seat, looking out over the great stone courtyard and lower town of Camelot, bustling with activity. To the west side, a button seller was waving his arms around dramatically as a woman did the same, but a little louder. Probably couldn't settle on a good price. Down the street, a farmer's wife laughed with a friend while her husband unloaded a box of the biggest cabbages Freya had ever seen in her life. To the right, another woman was holding out a piece of fabric that blew in the breeze like a merry green flag. The sun shone through until the fabric looked like a leaf with dew still resting on it. Towards the edge of the market, a rather dirty little boy bumped an apple off a cart, tossing it to a little girl leaning against a wall. Freya grinned - perhaps the boy had a crush and was trying to impress the little girl. It seemed to do the trick as the two scampered off together like new puppies.

The inharmonious clank of a mysterious metallic something drew Freya's attention away from the window, along with its cheery sounds floating up from below. A pair of leather boots held fast to the floor as the rest of the person leaned into a dark cupboard. A faint smile crossed her face as a victorious dark-haired fellow poked out of the cupboard holding a belt. "Found it!" Merlin announced with a smirk, tossing it into a growing pile of ceremonial garb. Apparently said outfit was scattered all throughout his room and the goal of the day was to locate it before the feast tomorrow, where a heightened and more polished appearance was required.

He stopped for a moment to take in all the areas he might have missed, giving Freya a chance to study his face from her perch. The hard, focused look to his face gave her somewhat of a start. His eyes were always on a mission, roving here and there until he found what he was looking for, and usually downcast. His ears still stuck out though and Freya could hardly suppress a giggle. So that hadn't changed. Hearing her, Merlin glanced quickly her way and gave her a small, preoccupied smile. It passed in a moment, and the eyes were back on the hunt. His face seemed unnaturally hard for just looking for an ensemble, she thought.

To pass the time, Freya began to try and spot the differences between the tunnel boy and the one rummaging around in the corner opposite. The one now every inch a man. He was a little taller, his shoulders broader than last, and his jacket certainly fit better. Merlin the tunnel boy had been so skinny that Freya had almost asked multiple times that they share the food he brought. The jacket had been large enough to use as a blanket back then, and it had hung off Merlin like it belonged to his father instead of him. Then there were the eyes….looking like they had seen far more than they wanted to, looking older than they were meant to.

The few times the lake had allowed her to see him were usually moments of great sadness or emergency. There was the one time she got to actually speak to him, and it was the highlight of her entire lake existence. Giving back to Merlin what she couldn't earlier, as a better person than before. But there had been too many deaths, too many burning boats sent out into the lake whose spirits Freya made sure were safe. Could those have been the reasons for such change?

A satisfied huff signaled Merlin's completion of his quest as he flopped onto the floor near the pile of garments. Rolling her eyes, Freya stood up and ambled over to the pile, sitting in between him and his accoutrements. With quick hands, she folded and smoothed the haphazard array of clothing into something a little more neat. Once she was finished, Merlin laughed.

"You might be too motherly for your own good, Freya," he grinned. She still felt warm when he said her name like so. That was one thing that would never change.

"Am I now? I just like things to look nice. Is that so bad?" Freya giggled, looking rather proudly down at her folding job. This was the sort of thing she hadn't gotten to do for years, and it reminded her of home. Home from long ago.

Merlin grew silent again, and with a nearly inaudible sigh rested his head on her shoulder. Not something he normally did, and its uncharacteristic nature surprised Freya for a second, but not too long. Laying her cheek on Merlin's head, she ran her fingers through his soft hair and hummed a muted tune. On impulse she brushed the hair away from his forehead and kissed him softly. Maybe there was some truth to the motherly part, she said to herself, amused. Quiet fell over the room with the mask of tranquility. There was peace, certainly, but something Freya couldn't quite touch still bothered her. Where had the boy who smiled so brightly he lit up a whole room gone? He had to be still there, she knew it; he had to be. Maybe just put away for a while. And yet he looked smaller, leaning on her shoulder. Freya knew the old Merlin was still inside somewhere, and she'd bring it out again - she'd figure out a way. But until then…..

_Oh, Merlin. My Merlin, where did you go?_


End file.
